


Sin and Grace

by Razikale



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Implied Relationships, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Rare Pairings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razikale/pseuds/Razikale
Summary: There is one particular agent Leliana wants to enlist for the Inquisition. One that only she can negotiate with.





	1. Chapter 1

She had forgotten about the dogs. How was that even possible? They were a constant presence, eyes watching from beneath every market table and vendor’s wagon. In the alleyways they scuffled with each other, kicking up clouds of dust. Not one street urchin wandered the city without a small entourage of the devoted creatures tailing behind. And not a one of them ever looked hungry.

An inquisitive whine from the shadows made Leliana pause. She clucked her tongue at the darkness, luring a hound with particularly luminous eyes to come sniff at her feet. For a moment she wondered if Morrigan had mastered yet another shape in order to play tricks, then quickly dismissed the paranoia. The witch could easily wear any creature’s skin, but her pride refused to be domesticated.

“Hello, handsome,” Leliana crooned softly to the mabari, kneeling to stroke the massive square head and receive an appreciative tongue bath over her fingers.

“That little charmer will trick you out of all your treats if you’re not careful.” Charter’s voice arrived at her side without any hint of movement. A smile twitched Leliana’s lips, pleased by the unparalleled skill and stealth of her operatives. Probably better not to tell the elf that her presence had already been betrayed by the dog. Mabaris were too brave to lurk in the shadows unless they were keeping someone company.

“Then he’ll have earned his meal.” Sister Nightingale slipped a piece of dried meat to the eager hound. She could hear an echo of the Warden’s laughter in her memories, accusing her of spoiling their mascot.

Truly, the whole city was thick with a history that could make her wistful if she did not stay on her guard. This was where she’d faced her past and chosen her future. Here she’d come to realize that love could restore what it had first destroyed.

“Our target is inside?” Leliana rose swiftly, folding the past like a missive to be set aside and considered another time.

“For five hours now,” Charter confirmed, following the spymaster’s attention towards the weathered wooden doors. “I’ve counted thirty-one people arrive and nine leave. Two of them wounded, three ill and the rest blind drunk.”

“In peak form then, no?” Leliana felt a familiar thrill of excitement at the prospect. It had been some time since she alone had pitted her wiles against a worthy adversary. This night held the prospect of being . . . engaging. A predatory instinct curled the edge of her lips and she began unfastening the clasps of her chainmail, shrugging the armor off.

“Sister?” Charter’s reflexes were swift, one hand shooting out to catch the falling metal before her spymaster could be left vulnerable.

“It would only draw attention,” Leliana chuckled softly, touched and amused by the sudden flash of worry in her agent’s eyes. “If I have need of armor tonight then the mission is already failed.”

Sister Nightingale knew better than most that every piece of clothing could be weapon or shield. A daring gown might easily be deadly, and the colors of a crest had proven stronger than blades. Her signature chainmail was a mark of office, distinctive in its warning. But as a bard she’d never used such trappings. Corsets and silk sufficed where leather and guards were useless. Tonight was a different sort of battle.

“As you say.” Charter reluctantly released her grip and stepped back, not bothering to hide the strain of skepticism in her voice.

Either Leliana had done her job correctly in inspiring such protective loyalty, or she’d failed miserably and let this woman become a friend. But that was a mystery to be contemplated another day. For now she tugged her cowl into place so that even as she moved into the flickering torchlight of the tavern the shadows could keep her secrets.

Welcoming heat and noise beckoned as soon as the large door swung open, engulfing Leliana and swallowing her in. The scent of wet sawdust barely masked the underlying sourness of old ale and heavy sweat. Lively music battled the sound of drunken patrons, flowed around the brawls and boasts and crept into quiet corners where sorrows were drowning. The Pearl had done well for itself since the Blight.

Leliana slid like water through the press of bodies, allowing the energy of the crowded room to draw her into its swirling tide. One large table pulsed with noise in a glorying rhythm of calm and chaos, shock and laughter. It was a heartbeat all its own, one that Leliana recognized instantly. More than once she’d seen Varric hold the lifeblood of an audience in his hands like this, weaving them in words until they didn’t dare to breathe. Vivienne could perform the same magic, though hers kept listeners in suspense on the twin prongs of flattery and fear. Any bard knew that there were scores of ways to capture attention, but Leliana had never seen anyone seduce a crowd so thoroughly, so effortlessly, so _obscenely_ as Isabela.

The captain—no, 'Admiral'—held court in a grand, egalitarian fashion. Her massive table was full of sailors and landsmen alike; nobles and rogues and scheming thieves leveled on the playing field of her raw, charismatic command. Seated near her and dotted through the crowd were clearly  a number of ship’s crew. The sea dogs gave themselves away not just by the rime of salt on their clothing and cackling, ribald comments, but with the gleam of unadulterated pride in their eyes. Every one of them looked on with gloating smirks and the affection of loyalty. These were clearly a crew willing to follow their leader to death just for the fun of watching her teach the demons a thing or two.

“Not your night, handsome.” Rivain’s rich accent flowed into laughter like music on Isabela’s tongue. That lovely sound was the only succor for yet another hapless victim stripped of his coin, four cards dealing cruel fate. A chorus of delighted cries and sympathetic moans rippled through the throng of admirers around the table. Another seat vacated, another hopeful rushing headlong into the abyss of those slick fingers and smoldering eyes.

Leliana held watch from a distance, keen to refresh herself on the famed Raider’s skills as well as admire her anew. The self-styled Queen of the Eastern Seas had miraculously evaded any of the hostilities of time. That fresh-faced but cunning beauty of ten years past had traded smooth youth for sager marks, tiny tells that betrayed sly experience. Even so, bathed in the flickering glow of dripping candles and roaring flames, there was no denying that Isabela was still every inch the same exotic, exquisite temptress that could be the fall of heroes and saints.

“You’re cheating!” A fist slammed onto the table, splashing drinks and scattering coin to the floor. The accusing man had the flushed face and white knuckled anger of one who’d been here in the tavern for too long. He’d gambled with whiskey laced courage and pride; neither a match for skill. As one the audience held its breath.

“Oh, am I?” A ghost of danger flitted beneath the beguiling curve of Isabela’s smile. She reclined deeper into the confident ease of her seat, a casual flick of her fingers calling for another round. The heavy coat draped across her shoulders shifted lazily, exposing a very familiar expanse of skin. Leliana found her eyes meandering over contours her fingers knew, intrigued by inked flourishes that hadn’t existed a decade ago.

“Daggers would never beat serpents but you fixed the hand! I was one card away!” Even with such a petulant tone Leliana detected notes of festering wrath beneath the loser’s complaint.  She knew that menace, the greed that lit his eyes different from any others in the room. Men like this were drawn to strong women, not out of admiration but from a longing to see them destroyed. Her fingers were already fondling a dagger’s handle before she managed to silence her instinct to act. This was a moment to observe, not interrupt.

 “I don’t have to cheat to beat the likes of you, mangy.” Isabela’s gaze turned sharp as daggers, a wicked tilt to one brow ready to drive her point in. “And if my coin sack was small as yours, I wouldn’t go drawing attention to it.”

“Filthy pirate bi—!” The growling insult burst into a scream of pain, one arm suddenly pinned to the table and spilling blood. Isabela had barely moved, a lightning reflex that somehow still seemed languid.

“You’re much luckier than you think, pisspot. Because I’m in a good mood and this is your left arm.” Isabela adjusted her grip on the dagger handle, a hint of malice in her smile enjoying his whimper when the blade twisted as she leaned forward. “And you’re going to leave with a scar and a story to tell your inbred grandchildren every time you’re three sheets to the wind. But if you don’t like that,” there was a whisper of metal in her breath that echoed a second dagger coming up in her free hand, “then I can make sure the story dies here.”

Either fear or blood loss had drained all the anger—and color—from the man’s face. He nodded so hard that he nearly smashed his head on the table. His release and immediate retreat was met with roaring approval from the crowd, a few vindictive souls hurrying him off with kicks and cuffs. Three bar wenches appeared like magic; two wiped up the spattered blood off the table while the third laid down a tray heavily laden with mugs of ale and bottles of rum, a handful of change clattering musically onto the wood.  Isabela seemed inclined to ignore both, reaching instead for the closest barmaid’s arm. A blonde, generously endowed.

“Aren’t you cheeky for such a delicious little thing?” Fingers that had wielded daggers only a second before now played artfully with the laces of the caught woman’s corset. Such touch was deliberate, a tease and threat rolled into one like the flash of fang in Isabela’s smirk. “Takes real brass bits to go stealing coin from a pirate.”

Anxiety fluttered through some of the faces in the crowd, surprise mingling with worry in the rising murmurs. The barmaid neither blushed nor denied the accusation, revealing a single silver in her hand like the trophy it had become.

“I had hoped to get the admiral’s attention.” The coin danced expertly between her fingers, showing off a deftness better suited to magicians than thieves. Without taking her eyes off Isabela or her increasingly wolfish smile, the blonde carefully slid her ill-gotten silver down the swell of her breasts and into the valley. There it rested, nestled tight between ample flesh and a straining bodice, barely peeking out enough to wink in the firelight.

“Oh, you have it, sweetness. I’d say you earned it,” Isabela laughed, tugging the wench down into her lap. She tipped the woman as if performing one of Antiva’s more scandalous dances, a dip that held her prey in suspense along with the captivated crowd around them. Even from her distance Leliana saw the helpless woman shudder when that low, rich tone swept over her from so close, “Time to find out what you win.”

While the spymaster couldn’t see precisely what happened when Isabela’s head dipped down, she didn’t truly need to. Every detail was eloquently described in the flush that swept up the barmaid’s cheeks, the confession of her throat arching back with a whimper. Then Isabela leaned back, head high and silver glinting between her lips for all to see. She spat the coin straight up into the air, ducking back down to ravish the blonde’s mouth in a well-deserved kiss that sent her feet flailing and then utterly limp. While the audience devolved into hooting cries and obscene cheering, Leliana alone noticed Isabela’s hand snaking out to catch the falling coin before it landed.

The flustered barmaid was released with a grand gesture, wavering somewhat as she walked away fanning herself with the bar tray. The energy of the tavern was at an intoxicating high, Isabela not only in her element but above it, riding a swell of glory and laughter. From this instant the night could only go down. Either into the grungy flailing of a brawl breaking free, or a dejected calm after some jealous admirer finally succeeded in luring the infamous pirate away. Leliana decided not to wait.

“You really haven’t changed, have you, Isabela?” She approached from behind the sailor, studying the way her words hit the woman like fingers plucking a string. A moment of tension unraveling into ease.

“And you haven’t learned, songbird.” Isabela hadn’t even looked at her yet, a richness of familiarity in her tone promising that she didn’t need to see what her instincts already knew. There was a sly crinkle at the corner of her eye as Leliana slid into a magically vacated seat beside the pirate. Only then did Isabela turn to her, full lips shaping into a genuine smile. “Still wasting time with your games when there are easier ways to have fun.”

“I could be here for business rather than pleasure, no?” Leliana let the rest of the people in the room fall away, purred her soft words for Isabela alone and watched each land a blow. She conjured memories of raven hair splashed across pale skin, salt and sweat, wet lips and a stormy air full of obscenities and sighs. She laced her voice with the tastes and scent and touches of that night, certain the other woman could hear every moment.

“Maybe there’s a way for us to both get what we want.” Isabela leaned closer. Her breath was a warm, rum-laced breeze when it hit Leliana’s face; the tavern lamps reflected in her gaze like embers trapped in honey. A lick of heat crept into her blood, seeing Isabela’s eyes darken as they swept over her.

“I might be persuaded.” A calculated movement under the table, one hand finding the swathe of skin bared between hip and high boots. Despite her outward calm, Isabela’s toned muscle tensed delectably when fingers brushed the inside of her thigh.

“Oh, I can be very persuasive.” A note of humor rumbled beneath the pirate’s cocky tone before she caught Leliana’s straying touch and pinned her in place. “But I don’t waste my time on bad hands. How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

This she’d expected. Leliana bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth from betraying any hint of triumph. Isabela might be driven by her lusts like a sail full of wind, but she always kept a firm hand on the helm. She could not be tricked. She could not be dominated. She could only be seduced.

Moving forward as if she were about to impart some precious secret, Leliana offered her answer in a tempting kiss. Soft enough to lure Isabela into pressing forward, to chase her with a firmer, hungry touch. Parting lips, a flick of tongue, fingers combing into that cascade of midnight hair and the deep, sweet hum of approval that rose from the pirate’s throat was a demon’s own song.

When a hand slid up to cup Leliana’s neck and draw her deeper she broke away, startled by the ache that resented such disciplines. Her mouth was momentarily slow and breathless, no words ready on her tongue despite the tilt of Isabela’s brow clearly challenging her to respond.

“Come, sweet thing. My new ship has an even lovelier cabin than before.” The admiral got to her feet, drawing Leliana up with her and clearly confident that she’d be leading their dance for the rest of the night.

“No.” Leliana allowed herself a wicked thrill of pride at the flash of confusion in Isabela’s eyes, nearly disappointment. Her tongue was smooth and quick once more, “I’m sure a room here will be fine for our negotiations.”

“You Orlesians and your dirty talk,” Isabela chuckled, not in the least disturbed by the shift in plan or power. She grabbed a bottle and her hat from the table, executing a theatrical bow to the rest of the crowd. “Your loss, fellows, we’re continuing this game in private.”

The applause and complaints rose in equal measure, both completely ignored as the two women headed upstairs.

***      ***      ***      ***

And to think, only this morning Isabela had been growing bored of Denerim. The liquor was too weak, the coin too small and the sex—while plentiful—lacked any element of challenge. Surrender wasn’t really victory if there’d never been a battle. The Pearl was supposedly a brothel but she had yet to pay for its pleasures; something about admirals just made everyone’s smalls drop. Probably the hat.

Honestly, ego was the only indulgence left in this mildewed port. Fortunately, between the crowds of admirers lining up to lose coin and the eager little things throwing themselves at her, she’d managed to find amusements while the ship was being refitted.  Tonight would’ve been like the rest—a mind-numbingly familiar pattern of winnings, bad drink and easy sex—until a fresh ripple of excitement changed the air around her game. She could see it in the curious faces of her crew and a few of the more observant players. She felt it in the gaze lingering on her with a different intensity than all the rest.  Someone new. Someone that didn’t belong.

For the quickest skipped heartbeat, in a deep and silenced recess of her mind, she’d thought it might be Hawke. That idea died before being born. She’d know Hawke anywhere, be it in blood and Blight soaked Deep Roads or the perfume and sex laden air of a brothel. That damned woman was a tide all her own that could capture and drag Isabela in no matter where they met or why. (Which was why all their friends now loudly announced which door in the house they were about to open any time they were together.)

This feeling of eyes on the back of her neck wasn’t Hawke. The polished metallic smell could’ve been anyone, but it was laced with a subtler sweetness. One that was misplaced but familiar. It wasn’t until Leliana’s teasing voice slid so smoothly over her skin that she placed the fragrance. The Fereldan wildflowers. Andraste’s something or other. Nectar would’ve been the smart name, seeing as that ethereal scent on the bard immediately filled Isabela’s mouth with a memory of her same flavor brought to earth. She felt the tug of her lips drifting up with fondness for that night. Denerim really was fully of surprises.

Isabela swept into the best room of The Pearl with a sense of ownership. She’d certainly been in it enough times over the years. The old furniture was as familiar as a favorite pair of boots. Especially with _her_ taste in boots. They’d replaced the drapes, which was a bit of a shame. The old ones were so worn that vagrants used to gather in the street to get a free show, it felt very . . .charitable.

Much as she loved her long coat, it was a relief to sweep the weight off her shoulders and toss it aside. The hat was much more reverently placed on a hook, as it deserved. She’d actually bought the damn thing, after all, and didn’t even have to threaten or flirt with the shop owner to lower the price. (She did anyway but that was a matter of principle, not coin.) The scent of rum flowed into the stale air as soon as she uncorked the bottle and Isabela poured a healthy draught into two cups before finally turning her attention to Leliana. She watched the redhead move deliberately around the room, taking its measure in light, casual steps.

“Now tell me, sweet thing. What _really_ brings you all this way?” Isabela held out a glass, a silent invitation to begin the next level of whatever this was.

“Why you, of course.” Leliana’s coy smile mirrored the glittering intrigue in her eyes, subtly sweeping over the pirate just slowly enough to be caught.

It had to be a trick of bard training, or some lingering residue of holy life that imbued this woman’s breathy voice with such a deceptive sincerity. The bold innocence of a maiden layered over a softer tone that whispered of lips and fingers and a lover’s whimpered cries. The heat of it, the allure was as irresistible as silken ties drawing her in. Leliana accepted the drink, eyes never leaving the pirate as she took a delicate taste; barely enough to wet her lips before she set it aside. Just an excuse for her tongue to flick out between plump coral curves and capture a lingering drop.

A trap then. Roguish instincts for spotting tripwires and hidden blades brightened with the certainty, her pulse quickening in delight. Isabela hid all trace of her knowing smirk behind a long drink from her own rum, toasting a secret triumph.That hint of danger chased the heat already threading through her veins, coiling into a fist that greedily clenched her insides. She’d walked willingly into dozens of traps, often the only one to walk out again. And here Leliana was clearly weaving a masterpiece too lovely to deny.

“Flatterer.” The pleasant, sticky burn of rum turned words into syrup on her lips. Isabela languidly strolled closer. “You know how I liked that tongue of yours.”

“I know you liked much more than that, no?” The red head stripped her gloves and cowl, tossing them aside and stepping forward to meet Isabela in the middle of the room, inches apart. The candle light picked up matching flames in her hair, flickering and dancing, daring the pirate’s fingers to play with fire.

Hands that had picked pockets and slit throats in a blink shot forward, snatching Leliana like a prize. Isabela didn’t even have to pull, the redhead’s supple lips crashing eagerly against hers. The dull thud of an empty cup hitting the floor echoed the feeling in Isabela’s gut, the punch of a war hammer when Leliana gasped hungrily into their kiss. Her porcelain cheek was warm and smooth against dark fingers, hair tickling the back of Isabela’s knuckles each time their mouths found a new angle to ravish.

Liquor mingled with the scent of skin, filling her senses with an intoxicating sweetness that begged for more. Leliana’s touches scattered over her like flashes of lightning in a storm; here the nails biting into leather on her wrist, a grip on her waist dragging her closer, then a hand tugging at her bandana, unfurling her hair to tangle in its thick waves. All the while both of them moving, twisting, feet shuffling forward and back like a dance as they fell into each other.

A sharp nip of teeth at her lower lip sent a bolt of pure lust straight to Isabela’s core and she faltered, a moan sliding up her throat without permission. The answering chuckle beneath Leliana’s breath was more a feeling than sound, a vibration that pranced merrily across her tongue and plucked at the pirate’s pride. She surged forward, pinning the petite bard against the wall and breaking away from the kiss to tear ragged sounds from those flushed lips with a tender assault down the bared skin of her throat. The grip on Isabela’s hair and shoulder changed in strength, no longer trying to control but clutching to hold on.

“Isabela,” Leliana tried to speak, to catch her attention but the name faded into a long sigh. The cotton of her tunic would be simple to tear but the sailor controlled herself, bunching the fabric out of her way to glide her fingers over smooth muscle that trembled deliciously under her touch.

“Still such a sweet song,” Isabela murmured, lavishing attention on a racing pulse point and savoring the gasp that was nearly a whine behind Leliana’s clenched teeth. Artful fingers trailed expertly along a beltline, dipping beneath the cloth to squeeze a handful of toned muscle and delight in the answering buck of hips arching closer with silent plea. “Tell me, Nightingale,” the pirate teased, words just a hair’s breadth away from touching her lips. “You’re here for more than sex.”

“Yes.” Leliana surrendered the confession easily, eagerly, catching Isabela’s mouth for an even deeper, bruising kiss.

 It was like trying to drink in the sea, the passion and power pouring across her lips. And tempestuous as the ocean the winds changed between one heartbeat and the next, the supple and pliant body beneath her suddenly tensing and pushing forward. Isabela staggered back a step, and then two, giving ground even as Leliana kept her close. An alien tremor raced up the pirate’s spine, a lick of nervous confusion she’d not felt in years. Fingers tangled in her hair and the laces of her bodice, refusing to let her escape until offering release with a flourish, a single finger tipping the scale and shoving her back. Isabela fell to the bed, gazing up in surprise at crystal blue eyes that had darkened with a coming storm.

“I am here for you, Isabela,” Leliana repeated her earlier assertion, one hand splaying wide across the sailor’s chest to hold her down. “And this is a very good place to start, don’t you think?”

Before the pirate could reply her breath was stolen in a startled curse, awed by the heat of Leliana’s body straddling her hips. Shock and curiosity was enough to hold the trapped woman still as the bard stripped her tunic, flinging it aside like a fighter shedding excess weight before battle. She rose above Isabela, a vision of those awful statues of Andraste Triumphant; except the Maker’s bride had never looked like this. If she had, Isabela might’ve gone to the Chantry more. Firelight licked over Leliana’s naked skin, her eyes roving the body beneath her like a treasure to be counted coin by coin. Kiss bruised lips parted over labored breath and stilled for a single moment in the wonder of what was about to be. A portrait of divinity in sin.

Isabela hadn’t even realized how hard it was to breathe until Leliana’s fingers deftly loosed the laces of her bodice. The fabric peeled away, clinging to the sweat of her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake before warm hands soothed the chill. Men had fought duels, risked death and dropped to their knees in weeping over Isabela’s breasts. Her most generous asset but also her worst weakness in the right hands and— _oh_ —Leliana very much had the right hands. She fell back against the sheets, lost in the sensation. Slow and reverent caresses interspersed with teasing pinches and bruising greed. Isabela’s body writhed and arched against her will, rising into each expert touch.

“Sod it, songbird,” Isabela gasped at the wet heat of a mouth engulfing one tender peak.

There was another rumble of teasing laughter, snapping the tenuous threads of her patience all in one. Legs and arms and strength worked in perfect tandem, the sudden tightening of her muscles scant warning before their positions reversed.  Leliana’s mouth was open in the most perfect ‘O’ of breathless surprise before her lips slid into a sly smile of delight.

“Yes, I remember this too,” the redhead murmured, her fingers gliding up dark thighs. “Always on top, no?”

“Fuck _yes_ ,” Isabela barely bit back a groan when a deliberate touch slid between her legs, cupping her through cloth that was already sticky and clinging to her heat.

There was a hint of copper on her tongue when that clever hand slid beneath fabric, a blessed gasp falling free at the relief of Leliana finally stroking directly against her soaked flesh. The bedcovers were scratchy in Isabela’s fists, her entire body bowed by the demand that followed every glide and twist of that touch. Her skin felt too hot, too slick, and then it was even more, the wetness of lips and tongue playing over her breasts with the same agonizing ministrations as the fingers exploring her arousal.

She was so close to begging, to demanding, to tearing Leliana’s hands away completely and using her body for all the pleasure she could take. And the bard knew, damn her. Like the best and worst of every lover and whore, she _knew_ ; and without any warning that teasing touch plunged inside. Isabela moaned, letting her voice follow those fingers with cries and curses until they hooked into exactly the right place and broke her voice into gasps.

Blunt nails sank into the flesh of her hip, urging her body to flow in rhythm with the waves of pleasure rising to wash her away. The scent of candlewax and blossoms filled Isabela’s mouth on a choking breath, that final crest reaching from the depths to drag her under. She froze and shuddered, every muscle clenching tight to cling to the pleasure unraveling her senses before it bled away in a low, tumbling sigh.

As her breath evened Isabela felt laughter beneath her ribs, bubbling free over raw lips. The air that soothed her lungs was tinted with salt and spring blooms and the barest trace of an expensive perfume long worn away. Her scattered senses gathered themselves, honing in on the scent of musk that drifted nearby just before Leliana’s lips wrapped around her own fingers, sucking them clean. Crystal blue was waiting for Isabela when she finally opened her eyes, the color glittering with triumph and decadence.

“Not bad, sweet thing.” A languorous smile crept across Isabela’s lips. She pulled Leliana’s hand away from her mouth, dipping in to savor the flavor of herself on the bard’s tongue before leaning back. “But now it’s my turn.”

“Not yet.” Leliana’s lightning quick reflexes caught Isabela’s hand before it could slip past the waist of her breeches. Such a tight grip contradicted the sultry ease of her lips tilting up to capture the pirate’s again. Isabela didn’t resist as her hand was dragged up the bard’s body, pressed to the soft flesh of a breast instead.  Leliana tilted back from the kiss with a gasp, lashes fluttering like wings before her gaze dragged Isabela in once more. “I’ll get what I want later.”

“Confidence, I like that,” the sailor couldn’t help but chuckle, losing the thread of the sound when lips fastened to the tender skin beneath her ear.

“I want you ready to say yes,” Leliana’s purr sent a frenzy of goosebumps down Isabela’s spine. When the bard flipped her over she didn’t even protest, content for the moment to simply surrender herself to this woman’s wiles.


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy discs of Isabela’s necklace bounced against each other, chiming a discordant melody over her arching curses.

“Yes, bloody yes—Andraste’s _tits—_ don’t stop!” Praise and obscenities twined on a voice raspy as gravel, her throat worn raw from such use.

Fingers buried in Leliana’s hair twisted and tugged, urging her deeper and faster between the pirate’s trembling thighs. Isabela was close again; she could feel it in the breaking rhythm of undulating hips, the heat spilling over her tongue. She tasted like the sea, sultry slick mingled with brine and spices too exotic to name. Leliana’s hands slid over sweat damp skin, fighting for a grip on the smooth curves riding above her. She might as well try to control the wind; Isabela in the throes of pleasure became a force of nature that shattered any restraint.

“ _Ah,_ fuck, yes. Fuck, _yes—!_ ” The Rivaini’s throaty voice broke in the same instant as the dam gates. Her thighs clamped like a vice around Leliana’s head, leaving only the roar of ocean in her ears, a distant seagull call the echo of Isabela’s exultant, choked cry. Her tongue never stopped, lapping up the fragrant nectar that flooded so sweetly into her mouth and wringing every last tremor of release from the pirate’s exhausted body.

The bed groaned for both of them when Isabela’s muscles finally relaxed and let her ease away from Leliana’s hungry touch. She rolled gracefully to one side, collapsing into a beautiful wreckage amidst the tortured sheets. The room fell into spent silence, heavy air echoing back only the sound of ragged breaths and the beat of Leliana’s racing heart. That thunderous pulse resonated through every inch of her, no longer housed beneath her ribs but much, much lower.

“You haven’t lost your touch, you lovely thing.” A low note of amusement unfurled in Isabela’s tone, too languid for laughter. The pirate stretched weary limbs before rolling to face her bedmate, sated gaze roving curiously over Leliana just like the hand trailing up her naked side. “Now, isn’t it time I returned the favor?”

“That’s not why I came.” It took all her discipline to push Isabela’s hands away. Not just this once but every time those artful fingers had begun their tempting assault. If the seductress was offended by being rejected she showed no sign, head simply tilting to one side as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A thick wave of tousled hair fell across her face, casting an alluring shadow over the caramel warmth of her eyes.

“Sweetness, you _still_ haven’t come.” Isabela quirked a skeptical brow. “And that really is a crime. Is this some new Chantry thing?” She leaned closer, the hitch in Leliana’s breath painting a smirk across her lips. “You get to be pure in the Maker’s eyes so long as the toe-curling’s all one way? Seems a terrible sacrifice to make for eternity in an old, bearded bosom.”

“Not a sacrifice.” Leliana shook her head, reaching up to stroke the hair away from Isabela’s cheek. If she thought the bard frightened of her own desire, she couldn’t be more wrong. A sly smile shaped the words playing on her tongue, “Perhaps it is penance, no?”

“Bollocks,” Isabela laughed then, a rich and full-throated sound that cast the whole world at her feet. “Nothing could be a punishment when you get to see me naked.”

There was no arguing that point. Leliana watched the other woman climb from the bed and saunter across the room, utterly at ease with her body on display. She even shot a wink over her shoulder; proof that she didn’t just feel Leliana’s gaze clinging to her skin, she reveled in it.

Completely without shame. That had always been Leliana’s strongest memory of Isabela. Long after the taste and feel of her had been muddied by the years she still remembered this instinctive, unapologetic swagger. It was a self-possessed assurance that cared not a whit for anyone’s opinion save her own. No doubts, no regrets; a creature entirely of the moment.

This time Isabela didn’t bother with a cup, taking a thirst-quenching draught right from the bottle. The rum came with her, in her hand and on her lips when she strolled back to bed and reclined on disheveled cushions like some exotic barbarian queen. Leliana adjusted herself into a mirror position, head propped in one hand to study the pirate in all her decadent, unholy glory.

 Their eager explorations had scattered clothing to every corner of the room but a few pieces survived untouched, hints of impatience and mystique. One leather wrist guard, a dagger sheath on her thigh, all her jewelry because it was as much a part of Isabela as the ink of her tattoos and the kohl lining her eyes. And one splash of color that Leliana found her attention drifting towards again. The red strip of cloth tied around her bicep served no purpose she could divine. She trailed her fingers up Isabela’s arm, deliberately tracing the edges of that mystery.

Whatever the sash signified, it was for Isabela alone. She didn’t like having it noticed. Not that she tensed or pulled away from the curious touch; no, nothing so obvious. It was more a stillness that crept into the air telling Leliana she was on the precipice of something deadly. The sailor’s sudden breath was pre-emptory, determined to get ahead of other questions.

 “Out with it then, sweet cheeks. The sooner you tell me what you’re after, the sooner I can say no and get on with making a proper mess of you.” Isabela turned to face her, any hint of discomfort erased in a predatory smile.

“Come to work for the Inquisition,” Leliana spoke straight, her voice firm. No tricks, no teasing and no doubt. 

 “Don’t tell me you thought a tumble would be enough to win me over to that madness!” A burst of surprised laughter rolled rich and merry off Isabela’s tongue, dancing with delighted disbelief. “Your mouth is good, Leliana, but not _that_ magical.”

Even if it went unspoken between them, there was no doubt: if Leliana had wanted to use sex as a weapon this night, she could have. Had done so countless times before. She had taken lovers as prey and driven them to the brink of madness. Tortured them with desire until their desperation offered her anything, everything, body mind and soul. And she took it all because she’d been taught to win, no matter the cost. 

“No, this was just to put you in the right mood.” Leliana’s light, playful reply cast aside those memories, waving them away with a flick of her hand. She trailed one fingertip into the valley between Isabela’s breasts. “And perhaps to remind you of how we’ve enjoyed working together before.” Her ticklish touch turned wicked, dragging harder to leave a thin mark on sensitive skin. “I’m sure you can imagine the benefits of doing so again, no?”

“Mmm, yes, you’ve done a lovely job of proving just how generous you can be.” Isabela leaned into the sharp sensation, setting aside her bottle of liquor for the equally satisfying pleasure of pulling Leliana closer. Warmth slithered down her spine, resting in the small of her back and collecting the subtle shiver that followed.  The breezy confidence in Isabela’s hands mirrored her smirking tone, “That’s hardly reason to go messing about with bastards that can rip holes in the sky or a pack of ball-busting busybodies. Your do-gooder lot are even worse than the demons.”

“Perhaps. But that won’t stop you saying yes,” Leliana murmured, clenching her legs to seek some relief for the dull ache between her thighs.  Her need for Isabela bled and blurred; wanting this insufferable woman for her touch, for the Inquisition, for this moment, tomorrow, everyone’s future—it was all one. That was the only way to win.

“So stubborn,” Isabela’s breathy chuckle mingled with awe. Amusement, confusion and respect all twisted in her eyes as they swept over Leliana, cataloging each traitorous confession of desire and the discipline that held her in check. There might even have been a flicker of mercy in the momentary softness of a thumb grazing her cheek. “Go on then, tell me why I’d ever agree to such ass-headed stupidity.”

“Because I know you, Isabela. You’re greedy.” Leliana had yet to completely crack the mysteries of the Queen of the Eastern Seas, but she knew that one truth like her own bones.

“Naturally, sweets. I’m a _pirate._ ” Far from being offended Isabela accepted the verdict with pride, relishing her sin.

It would’ve been an insulting accusation for most, but not Isabela or anyone that knew her. Greed could be more than lust for coin and power, it could be a passion for life. And the pirate queen loved life and its pleasures with a fervor that was very nearly worship. Anything that might bring delight in this mortal realm was spoil for the victor, a prize to be seized with both hands and never surrendered.

That was why Leliana had known the promise of gold and glory wouldn’t be enough. Isabela had no desire to be the richest or most powerful of anything. Though she enjoyed a good bit of bragging, she never measured her worth against other people or begrudged them their share of life’s booty. Somehow, Isabela’s greed was not covetous. She only resented others when they had something that was rightfully hers. Taken, stolen or simply lost.  That had been a ship or two here and there, some crew, but more than anything else—

“I can give you the one thing you crave most.” Leliana’s quiet promise had the rolling wake of thunder. She didn’t have to say more. In the sudden stiffness of the body pressed against hers and hands drawing away as if from a deadly trap, she knew Isabela understood.

 “You can’t offer me what’s already mine.”  An edge of steel darkened Isabela’s gaze, the danger of changing wind confessed on the slightest hint of breeze.

  _Mine._ Well that took all the stories up a notch. Interesting that Varric left out such a telling detail in his rather cavalier narrative of the Champion’s romance. But it was exactly as Leliana had suspected. Isabela was already moving away, following a deeply embedded survival instinct that demanded escape from this threat without even knowing exactly what it was.

“No, and I wouldn’t,” Leliana agreed firmly, loosing her grip to give the other woman space. Feeling trapped would only make Isabela’s need to fight stronger. That didn’t mean she couldn’t keep reaching out. “However, I can give you her safety. She has lent her skills and resources to the Inquisition for now but she is a hero, Isabela.” That word weighed heavy on her tongue, wondrous but cursed all the same. She saw the pirate cringe beneath its blow. “We both know what that means. She will not stop, she will not wait and she will not ask for aid.”

“Maker’s sod sack, Hawke.” Isabela sat up, one hand angrily raking through her hair. The low rumble of frustrated words not meant to be heard. “What shit have you gotten yourself into now?”

“She hasn’t written you?” A twinge in Leliana’s ribs put all causes and fates on hold, frozen by a sympathetic pang.

“Don’t be silly, sweets, of course she has,” Isabela’s laugh was forced this time, hollow enough to ring bitter. “Hawke’s quill might as well be dipped in blood magic. All full of wicked stories and games and so many debauched fantasies for sex that it’s a miracle the pages don’t catch fire.” Even if her smile was small and wistful, it was real. Then it vanished into a thin line of frustration. “But not a word of what her stupid, stubborn ass is actually doing.”

Leliana read the lines marring a smooth dark brow, creasing around angry eyes. Silent confessions of a dozen lost arguments. Which was the crueler fate? To be tortured by ignorance or helpless with knowledge? She had yet to make peace with either.

“She wants to protect you from fear. Just as you’d like to protect her from danger, no?” Leliana wasn’t conscious of her gentler sound, the softness of emotion in her voice longing to insulate another from such a familiar pain. “I can assign my people to keep watch on her.”

“I don’t need your spies. Hawke hates being watched,” Isabela shot back, too quick for the answer to be new. Her sigh of resignation might have been irritated with Leliana’s offer, but complained far more of her lover’s stubborn streak.

“Not as agents, Isabela, as guardians.” One hesitant hand hovered above the sailor’s bare shoulder, at war for brief seconds before clasping tight in assurance. “I can’t stop Hawke, or even guarantee her safety in whatever comes. But I can make sure that she has support and faces nothing alone.” Leliana could feel the walls within Isabela crumbling stone by stone, sinking deeper into her promises. “I could arrange for your missions to keep you near her, or even near Skyhold for when she returns. You might not know what she is doing or where, but you’d be sure she’s alive.”

“Because that’s what you want with _your_ hero, isn’t it?” With the suddenness of a drawn dagger Isabela twisted on her. Dark eyes pierced like a sharpened blade, splitting words and stabbing right to the heart. Leliana’s breath caught in her throat, startled by the turn. She had touched Isabela’s weakness and now the pirate was striking back in kind,

“You’re not the only one with a good memory, songbird.” That slow, dragging menace on the sailor’s tongue savored her surprise. “I remember how you were with your Warden. Clinging to her, all wet and shivery. I’ve seen shipwrecked sailors less of a mess. And they’d never sound as desperate as you.” A low note of mockery trickled off her words, trailed the fingers caressing Leliana’s throat. “Oh, you were very Orlesian most of the night, begging me so prettily. But, sodding Maker, you _prayed_ to her.” Isabela’s voice was frayed at the edges, dark and dangerous as the emotions threatening to break free; echoed in the tremor of her hand. “There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t give, take or do when it came to that woman.”

Leliana didn’t blink, not with that flinty gaze boring into her soul. She would not flinch as each rasping accusation conjured memories that burned inside her like embers she’d never let go. There was no hiding or denying the truth of every word. And the deeper Isabela plunged into Leliana’s longing, the more she revealed of her own.

“Like you and Hawke.” Leliana didn’t care that the hand on her throat was trembling with the effort of not squeezing tight. She could _see_ the cascade of frustrated passions devouring Isabela like a fuse. The final spark lit her eyes with a brilliant, glittering explosion and she surged forward, pinning Leliana hard to the mattress.

“Yes, damn it all. Exactly like with Hawke.” The confession rent from her throat with the anger of a wounded animal.  This time her mouth was fierce when she laid siege to Leliana, as brutal and unstoppable as the tempest thundering in her veins. The hand gripping her wrist promised bruises and she had no escape, no desire to do anything other than surrender to the ravages of Isabela’s aching heart. A twisted mirror of her own need.

Fingers that wrestled rudders through a storm grabbed at Leliana’s hip, dug hard into the taut muscle of her ass until she gasped and Isabela could plunder deeper into their kiss. The redhead scrabbled for purchase, a grip on the welcome weight pressing her into the bed. Her hand skidded uselessly over slippery skin, carding into tangled hair instead and relishing Isabela’s hiss across her lips as she pulled tight. The taste of copper bloomed on her tongue when Isabela tore away, muttering a breathless string of obscenities and snatching Leliana’s hand to pin overhead with the other.

Teeth caught the edge of her ear, followed by a rush of sultry breath, “It’s my sodding turn, songbird.”

Oh, sweet Andraste. Leliana shivered, eyes wincing shut. Her lower lip stung where she bit down to hold in a traitorous moan. Isabela’s mouth seared down her neck, branding pale skin with aching marks that felt like they should glow. Inch by inch she moved lower until her lips found the tender pulse point on Leliana’s throat and latched on.

“Maker, Isabela!” The bard gasped, arching as if struck by current. Her bucking hips met delicious pressure grinding back, a jolt of contact that drew even more molten heat to trickle from her core. Instinctively Leliana rolled upward again, chasing the thrill that licked up her spine each time Isabela’s body answered.

 Hours of denial confessed themselves in the rush of excitement tearing so quickly through her senses, already on the verge of being completely overcome. She writhed beneath Isabela, shameless and wanton and so very, _very_ close. The moan swelling her breath caught in her throat, choked into a helpless keen when Isabela drew back.

Leliana’s eyes snapped open, a litany of scathing curses rapidly forming on her tongue but the pirate’s gaze held her silent. Threat and promise twined in the colors of smelting bronze, hung unspoken on swollen, parted lips.

“You’re not getting off that easy, Leliana.” The rasp of Isabela’s words were a dagger’s edge dragging up her skin, gleaming with wicked ideas.

A knee wedged between Leliana’s thighs, making room for the hand that plunged into the soaked and swollen flesh in between. Her muscles quivered and tensed, exulting in the relief and aching for more. The instant Isabela’s fingers parted her folds she felt a surge of heat spilling free, her body all but weeping in need. For only a moment the touch was still, feeling the wetness and want that Leliana had kept silent this whole time. That pause was more likely to be her undoing than any other torture and the redhead licked her stinging lips, ready to beg if that was what Isabela wanted of her.

Before she could form a single word three fingers thrust quick and deep into Leliana, wringing a note of triumphant surrender from her lips. Her inner walls shuddered and clenched, too desperate to feel any pain in the sudden fullness.

“Holy mother, oh Maker, oh— _fuck!_ ” Leliana bucked against Isabela’s hand, blasphemous prayers spilling off her tongue as she clung to those fingers and tried to draw their pleasure even deeper into herself.

Lips were back on her skin, sucking fresh marks down her collar and breasts. Isabela’s mouth hummed with pleasure when she captured a tight and tender nipple that made Leliana flutter and squeeze even tighter around her. The sheets chafed at Leliana as she thrashed, hands curling with the need to feel skin and strength and sinuous muscle flowing beneath her touch.  With her arms trapped her whole body answered instead, exploring every inch where flesh met flesh.  One long leg hooked over Isabela’s hip, savoring the way they moved together like a dance, like a tide crashing against jagged coastline.

The twist of Isabela’s fingers was a magic all its own, hooking up to stroke the swollen front wall that made her tremble and moan with every thrust. She was quickly swept into a punishing rhythm that left no time to breath, ripping air from her lungs in gasped curses and cries. The demanding touch rent pleasure from Leliana like a due; a battle to be won, a war where she was the enemy and the prize all in one. With a final, shattering groan Leliana cried out her surrender, taut as a bowstring for one second before shaking loose and melting into Isabela’s hand.

The flood of lust spilling between her thighs announced sweet relief, but Isabela didn’t stop. Those greedy fingers buried in Leliana’s core kept twisting in her heat, coaxing sated muscles back into desperation.

“I-Isabela,” Leliana’s tongue was too slow for protest, still numb from the sounds of bliss.

“Told you, sweet thing.” Isabela’s eyes flashed with an unholy glee, breathless in her own excitement. “You don’t get off that easy.”

The expert touch that had ravaged her inner walls resumed, doubled with the pirate’s palm pressing rough circles over the stiff bud nestled in soft flesh. Leliana’s head tossed back on a groan threading between ecstasy and pain.

She kicked up on instinct, toes curling and clawing for purchase in the rumpled bedclothes. A sudden rush of heat over her thigh married with Isabela’s decadent moan and Leliana’s blurred senses latched onto the thread of that entrancing sound. Shifting her knee she drove her hip up on the pirate’s next thrust, gloating in another intoxicating surrender from Isabela’s tongue.

“Oh, _shit,_ but you’re good,” the sailor’s ragged words danced on a smile, eagerly falling into a rhythm that wove Leliana’s pleasure with her own. Slickness gliding and grinding over her muscle paired with the heavy smell of sex in the air, the wooden groans of the bed keeping time with their bodies rocking together, a swiftly rising debauched symphony.

“Please, mother above, Isabela,” the plea tumbled off Leliana’s lips without thought, begging without even knowing why.

“What, songbird?” The pirate leaned in to taste the longing on Leliana’s mouth, reveling in their shared hunger. “Mm, you gorgeous thing— _fuck—_ tell me,” she gasped against the bard’s lips, breathless but demanding. “What do you want?”

In an instant of clarity Leliana’s hands clenched, the muscles of her arms burning from the exhaustion of trying to break free.

“To touch you.” Her thoughts split with a gasp when Isabela’s hips bucked harshly, lithe body trembling in the quake of a violent want.  Without a word the pirate released her imprisoning grip.

Elated freedom tore through Leliana and she clawed greedily at Isabela, tangling herself completely with sinuous limbs and undulating curves. Need had buckled them both into each other, the pirate barely holding herself up with a single elbow planted stubbornly in the sheets. Her face was hot against Leliana’s cheek, mouths finding each other as often as skin and hair, panting curses no matter where they landed.

“Maker, Isabela.” Leliana buried one hand in the thick raven hair that tickled her lips with every breath. “Don’t stop— _holy ashes_ —don’t!”

Lust made Leliana’s touch clumsy, fumbling blindly down the pirate’s body to find the fleshy curve of her hip. The muscles clenched so delectably beneath her fingers and she gripped tight. She couldn’t stop the pummeling waves of pleasure rising from Isabela’s every touch but she could make certain they both crashed into the final defeat. Digging her nails into dark skin she dragged the pirate roughly against her thigh, surging up to capture her lips.

The lithe body riding against her bucked, a sound almost of pain rolling off Isabela’s tongue as her fingers pummeled all the more ferociously into Leliana’s sex. The rush of juices smearing her thigh was more than Leliana could bear and her body snapped tight, trembling violently in Isabela’s hold as they rode out the crashing tide together.

It might’ve been seconds or hours before either of them were aware of each other once more. Leliana felt Isabela’s breasts swell and fall with the shallow, labored breaths that raised gooseflesh down her neck. Her fingers were still tangled tight in dark hair and she slowly unraveled them, stroking the tresses in apology. Not that there were actually any regrets. In this moment, with the heavy warmth of Isabela weighing her into the mattress, Leliana decided the entire night was a victory.

However, she couldn’t deny that the pirate might have a different opinion. Particularly as she roused and pulled free of Leliana, rolling over to the empty space of the mattress with an exhausted curse.

“Traitor’s shit balls.” Obscenity really did come as naturally to Isabela as breath.

“Was that a yes?” Leliana quirked a curious brow, the tease of her question so obvious that the pirate didn’t even bother to look at her before cursing again.

“Yes. Buggering Maker, fuck me with a blade!” Isabela tossed an arm over her eyes, groaning in defeat, “It’s yes.”

Leliana chose to say nothing more, contented with a small, peaceful smile and sigh that turned into the hum of an old, beloved song.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was exhausting!   
> Feedback and comments are encouraged, particularly since I'm undecided about doing a third chapter to end.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spontaneous idea that simply wouldn't leave me alone. Wonderful as it is to be using two of my favorite characters ever, it's a bit challenging to put them in the same scene. Two stars each trying to steal the stage, as it were. Hope to turn it into 2 or 3 chapters but we'll see. Comments and feedback encouraged!
> 
> P.S. Thanks to my partner in crime, even if you're not writing you're still an inspiration.


End file.
